


Castaways and Cutouts

by Suzume



Category: Boardwalk Empire
Genre: Angst, M/M, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-06 18:24:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4232103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suzume/pseuds/Suzume
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some things might be better said without words.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Castaways and Cutouts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [havisham](https://archiveofourown.org/users/havisham/gifts).
  * Inspired by [You're feeding on my loneliness](https://archiveofourown.org/works/263667) by [havisham](https://archiveofourown.org/users/havisham/pseuds/havisham). 



> Or: Castaways and Cutouts (the a good man is hard to find remix)

         Jimmy thinks he might have gotten something of Richard's true measure by this point. On some level, Jimmy's sick and tired of the lessons pushed on him time and time again by Nucky, by his mother, but if the two of them agree on anything, they probably have a point. You should know the people who work for you. In the trenches, you have to make the right decision in an instant. The difference could be life or death. Back home that's still an important skill- and first impressions mean a lot, but there's usually more time to think things over.

         Richard tries to keep the expression on his real face as calm as his mask. When composed, the two halves seem to form something of a fractured shield. But everyone who sees Richard can tell that he's broken. It's something sad and unfair and Jimmy can't begin to imagine what that's like- what it feels like, on the inside or the outside- but in the sense that it's a signal, that the Richard who came home from France isn't the Richard who left for it… Jimmy wouldn't mind a visual marker of that of his own.

         Ma's a survivor, who will clutch and claw at whatever it takes her to get by. For all that Nucky seems to have easy access to anything he wants in all the little semi-self-contained world of Atlantic City, since growing up, Jimmy's gotten the feeling Nucky's something of a survivor too. Both of them fought for what they have. Jimmy and Richard…their being here…it's more like a passive thing. There was no one moment when they claimed their destiny. The war just receded when it did, like a wave on the beach after a hurricane, leaving behind so much flotsam and jetsam. They happened not to die.

         So, what now?

 

         Jimmy appraises Richard again, considering what evidence he has. There are the things Richard had said to him, starting from their first conversation at the hospital; there are the things Richard has done purposely, his skill as a sniper brought to bear as vengeance on behalf of poor, sad Pearl (the world was cruel to dreamers, Jimmy kept seeing it hammered home again and again); then there are the things Richard has done unconsciously and said without words. Those last might be the most significant of all.

         They're headed to dark places, but at least they're going together.

         Richard's dark eye catches on the bulge of his bicep beneath his rolled up sleeve, the curve of his Adam's apple, the blue of his eye. He's hooked, a fish on a line.

         Ma's passed that skill on to him. Knowing when people are looking at you. Knowing _how_ people are looking at you.

         Jimmy wonders if Richard will ever trust him enough to bring it up, to ask. …Not that he's all that sure he could bring it up either, but between what Richard knows of Pearl and Angela he has better (easier) excuses. Even the best of women though, whether they're tough, they're smart, they're beautiful- what happened over there is something they don't know. (Jimmy can't let go of Angela, but at the same time, he can't help but think it might be better to- she and Tommy aren't damned yet)

 

*****

 

         They sleep in the same room. Or, Jimmy sleeps. Sometimes he's not sure Richard ever rests. He must be a light sleeper. Whether it's morning or a nightmare or a sudden noise that wakes him in the night, Richard is always up first.

         This time Jimmy's bursting forth from an unsettling dream like his head's popping out from under a cold Atlantic wave. There's a riptide of anger pulling at his edges. He'd rather let the dream roar away back out to sea, but something of it is lodged in him like shrapnel and he can't let it go so easily. It's frustrating.

         In the quiet of the bedroom, his breath seems so loud. It takes another moment for the sound of the clock to become real to him. It ticks away, measured and uncaring. He turns and looks at Richard, already awake again, watching him. And Richard… Richard cares.

         In the dream there were bodies covering his in the trench. Bodies that grew stiff and cold. It occurs to Jimmy that he might indicate to Richard what he said before, but without any saying. Their gaze meets. He beckons and Richard rises from bed, sliding the sheets aside. Richard is mask-less. He seems almost like a ghost.

 

         But a ghost, or a body- in the past or in a dream- isn't warm like Richard. He's hesitant, even after Jimmy touches him, fingers sliding over his cheek and around to hold the back of his neck. Jimmy moves slowly, leans in until his forehead and Richard's touch. They're sharing one another's breath. They're close as- no, closer, than brothers-in-arms. Jimmy is all too aware of lines like that. The nearer you draw to them, the more they stand out. They're branded into your brain once you've crossed them.

         Compared to what Jimmy did before he enlisted, this is nothing. He kisses Richard, lips closed at first, but he can't say he feels there's anything chaste about it. Jimmy lingers toward the uninjured side of Richard's mouth, not sure how much is too much, how much would be unwelcome, but as his lips part and Richard inches closer to him, he gets this feeling that there's not much he could do or ask that Richard would consider too much.

         When he gingerly (how sensitive is it?) grazes his fingertips over the ruined side of Richard's face, Richard lays his hand over Jimmy's. It escalates quickly. What are they but two lost souls, groping in the darkness? For what? For some sort of meaning or just a moment of pleasure? …Jimmy thinks he can discern Richard's wishes better than his own. How can he tell him, Jimmy wonders, that there's no way he can save him?

         Hands slide beneath undershirts. Palms touch scars. Neither of them utters a sentence longer than one word at a time. The air around them is warm with friction as their bodies rub together, tinged with the familiar tang of sweat.

         Richard closes his remaining eye as it overwhelms him. Jimmy's stay open. He thinks about how much bliss can resemble pain, at least as he sees it writ on Richard's face. Is it that, or Richard's tentative returning touch that takes him over?

         When his mind clears again, Jimmy is lying back. He moves away from Richard, who's giving him a look that puts him in mind of Angela. The warm atmosphere begins to dissipate as he pulls away further.

         Jimmy knows what he wants next. It's still not what Richard wants. "I need you to do this for me," he says with practiced calm, "Just one thing."


End file.
